Allyou Reflection

Monday.


February 10th.

Classes carried on like any other day. Occasionally, a lesson would be set aside for festival preparations, painting banners, assembling decorations, or brainstorming ideas, but unless it was something scheduled during school hours, participation was completely optional.

Those who actually cared, or just liked being involved, would linger after classes ended. Not for too long, usually until around four. That was kind of the unspoken limit. As long as a few teachers remained on campus, students had some freedom to stick around. But let’s be real, most people weren’t about to sacrifice their after-school hours when they could be off hanging out with friends, playing games, or just vibing somewhere more fun.

So why am I even bringing this up?

Because, against my will, I got roped into helping.

Dragged by the king and queen of extroversion, I was “invited” to join them in their festival crusade. Apparently, they needed my help. Or maybe they just didn’t want to be alone. Either way, I ended up being the third wheel to their chaotic chemistry.

The weird part is, it didn’t feel like your typical third-wheel situation. You know, awkward, unspoken tension, trying to make yourself invisible. Nah. They’re too good for that. Too thoughtful, too inclusive. Even with the strange dynamic between them, one clearly crushing, the other seemingly indifferent, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being...in the middle of something unspoken.

“Is everything okay, Anon?” Emi’s voice snapped me back to the moment.

I turned to her, setting the paintbrush down, avoiding her gaze a little as I answered.

“Nothing major. Just overthinking, I guess.”

“Overthinking what?”

“...”

How do you even explain something like this?
That there’s this girl I care about, someone in another world, practically another reality. That I'm terrified of trying to help her and failing. Of making things worse. Of being a disappointment. Would I even mention it was a girl if I tried to explain? Would that give too much away?

“There’s this…friend of mine,” I said slowly, “who’s worried about someone. But they’re afraid to try and help. Afraid of the disappointment if they mess it up.”

Emi tapped her chin thoughtfully, the silence stretching between us before she finally spoke.

“This friend of yours…do they want to be with the person they’re worried about?”

I gave a small nod.

“Then maybe it’s better to rip the bandage off now, instead of letting it sit over a wound that might not even exist.”

I let out a half-hearted chuckle. “Shakespeare over here.”

But deep down, I knew she was right. I’ve been putting it off, telling myself I could visit her whenever I wanted, to convince myself there was still time. A sweet little lie I fed myself because the truth is too heavy to face.

“...No,” I muttered, the weight of the realization settling in. “It’s not that I’m worried about what will happen. I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Maybe…of getting closer to someone when I’ve never really let myself get that close to anyone before.”

“Oh wow. That’s…a bit more than I expected.” Emi blinked, then smirked. “But don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

She paused for a second, as if organizing her thoughts, then asked, “Do you want to grow closer to them?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll ask again. Why not rip the bandage?”

Before I could respond, she cut in, “Of course, I know it’s easier said than done. I’ve been in the same boat.”

She didn’t sound sad or regretful, more like resolved. Steady.

“Which is why it’s time.”

“Time?” I echoed.

“Time is your answer!” she declared, scooting closer with a mischievous grin lighting up her face.

I blinked. “What?”

“Think about it,” she said, her grin turning sincere. “I’ve got a plan. I’m going to confess to Nova on Valentine’s Day.”

“Not even trying to hide it, huh?” I muttered.

“Please. Don’t act like you didn’t already know,” she shot back with a playful nudge. “But do you know why I picked that day?”

“Because… it’s Valentine’s Day?”

“Yes and no. It’s about timing. I can’t predict what’ll happen, but when the moment feels right, really right, I’ll confess. The day gives me courage, and the timing gives me clarity.”

She paused, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at her lips.

“Maybe you just need the right moment too. Maybe the universe will guide you when both of you are ready.”

The universe…

The very thing separating me and her. That strange, intangible force that keeps our worlds apart. Will it really show me the way when I need it most? Does Cloey ever think the same things I do?

“I guess I really was overthinking it,” I mumbled, a bit more to myself than her.

“Happens to the best of us,” Emi said gently, patting my shoulder. “Took me a long time to realize I just need to go at my own pace.”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“Of course! What else is a fellow hopeless romantic supposed to do?”

“M-my friend!” I blurted, cheeks burning. “This is all about my friend, remember?”

She just laughed, that goofy, knowing smile spreading across her face. She knew. She definitely knew.

“Well then,” she said with a wink, “tell your friend I’m rooting for him. He’s got this.”

Only four more days until Valentine’s.
Four days until the day fate might just align.
Four days until I find out if the universe is truly on my side.

The thought lingered in my head as we continued painting the last section of the banner. The room smelled faintly of acrylic and dust, the sun beginning to dip outside the windows, casting golden streaks across the floor. Emi hummed a little tune under her breath, something upbeat and annoyingly catchy. I didn’t mind. It grounded me.

Maybe it was silly to put so much weight into a single day. Maybe the world wouldn't change just because of a confession or a well-timed visit across dimensions. But maybe, just maybe, that moment could be the beginning of something real.

I glanced at Emi, still focused on her work, brush moving in wide, confident strokes.

And maybe...I'm not as alone in this as I thought.

Even if the universe doesn’t speak, I think I’ll try listening a little harder.
Just in case it’s whispering.